Secrets, Lies & Homicide

by Patricia Dusenbury

  "Shylock told me that she started trust number two in 1968 with just over three hundred thousand," he said. "The mysterious land deal is no longer a mystery."

  "No, and both sales look totally legitimate."

  "So the whole sugar daddy road thing is a dead end?"

  "The road but not the sugar daddy. Don't you want to know how your mother was able to buy four hundred acres in the first place?"

  "I'm listening."

  "She paid one dollar."

  "Not a bad price. What's his name?"

  "Devereux. She bought the land from Pineland Corporation, but the signatory was Roger Devereux."

  "You're kidding me."

  "The land sale occurred on the same day as the creation of the trust, February 28 1960." She watched Tony's face for his reaction. "He gave her that land how many years after their divorce?"

  "Geneviève liked to hint that she had something on Devereux, but if you pressed her she'd shut up."

  "Maybe it wasn't blackmail. Maybe they still cared for each other."

  "Like the article in the paper?" He laughed. "You're smarter than that. I never heard her say a kind word about the guy. Trust me, it was a payoff."

  "For what?"

  "I don't know. I was two weeks old at the time. Did I ever tell you I was born on Valentine's Day?" He picked up another piece of chicken. "If she kept bleeding the family, Devereux really could have killed her. He was right there, living in the same building."

  "He's in the secure area for people with dementia. I saw him when I visited her. He seemed out of it, but she said he understood a lot more than people realized."

  "Don't believe anything Geneviève told you. She was a liar, and she hated Roger Devereux."

  "I don't see how she could create a second trust. Seems to me the money from selling the land should have gone back into the original trust."

  "That sounds logical, and it could be the loophole I'm looking for." He stood up. "Let's go back to New Orleans. The rain's not letting up. I'll visit my farm some other time."

  A couple with a little boy exited the restaurant ahead of them and stood for a moment under the overhang, while hard rain bounced off the parking lot. The little boy raised his arms, and the father picked him up. He carried his son close, sheltering him from the rain, as they all ran to their car. Tony was watching them too, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. He'd expressed indifference about his mother's murder, but twenty-five years after the fact he still mourned his father.

  Claire took his arm. "Ready to run for it?"

  CHAPTER 26

  "Are you doing anything but waiting around for the DNA results? How much time and money have we spent on that crap? And for what?" Vernon looked tired and sounded querulous. There'd been rumors he was considering retirement, but the smart money said he'd die with his boots on, probably from apoplexy.

  "The SOC team confirmed bloodstains on a partially burned canvas found in a wood stove in the studio," Mike said. "They think they've found the murder weapon, a heavy piece of wood used for stretching canvas. I'm sending fragments of both to CODIS. They'll tell us if the blood matches the bones. We'll also send a personal item to verify that the blood belonged to Jim Burke." They should have included a personal item first time round, but Vernon had limited the budget and thus the number of tests.

  "Who's paying for all these new tests? I haven't approved another penny. I don't know why I let you talk me into this crap in the first place."

  "No extra charge. The people we're working with see this case demonstrating the power of DNA analysis in criminal cases." And paternity suits, but he wasn't going to share that tidbit.

  "More like demonstrating a fuck-up." Vernon groused, but there really wasn't anything for him to complain about.

  "We'll get the first results Friday at the latest and the others as soon as they can work them in."

  "What else?"

  "Geneviève Burke knew the bones were there. Soon after her son told her he'd opened the studio, she asked a man who worked for her to retrieve the old chest. We're tracking down people who were Geneviève's friends around the time her husband disappeared," Mike said.

  "You think Tony Burke is right? Geneviève and her lover killed her husband?"

  "We haven't found anything that proves him wrong."

  "Can you prove him right? Never mind." He answered his own question. "We're waiting for the DNA results." He pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and took out a fresh piece. "Where are you on the Iris Burton shooting?"

  "All we have is her statement that she'd seen the killer, a well-dressed elderly man."

  "Everyone with a TV set has that."

  "When we have Geneviève Burke's killer, we'll have Iris Burton's killer," Mike said. "I've also asked Paul Gilbert for help." He repeated what Paul had told him about the friendship between the two families. "Paul was only a child when Jim Burke disappeared, but he's agreed to ask his parents. And now I'm asking you."

  The Super stopped chewing. "What are you asking me?"

  Mike gave him the list of men residing at Sunny Gardens. "Do any of these names ring a bell?"

  Ten minutes later, Bea picked him up in front of headquarters. "What did he say?"

  "Other than wanting an arrest yesterday?" Mike said. "Not much. Vernon didn't like being asked about Geneviève's old liaisons, but he said he'd give the matter some thought. I gave him a list of Sunny Gardens' male residents. I want to give Gilbert a copy, too, let him run it by his parents. Can you take care of that?"

  "I'll do it before I leave today." She made a rueful face. "I wouldn't have the Super's job for a million dollars. Important feathers are being ruffled, not only the Devereux family's but also their friends'. You know some of these old men are afraid their names will surface next, and you know he's hearing about it."

  "He was ready to veto the additional DNA tests, but what could he say? The lab is doing it for free. And the results could lead to an arrest that would solve both murders."

  "The lab is working for free? I'm not complaining, but why?"

  "When I told Lucy, the lab tech I've been talking to, that one of the things we wished to verify was paternity, she became eloquent on the subject and anxious to work with us."

  "I'm sorry, Mike. You've lost me."

  "Lucy sees using DNA to establish paternity as a potential goldmine. She volunteered to fast track the analysis at no charge. Her director went along." Bea continued to look puzzled and he said, "Think how many women would pay to establish a man's paternity and his responsibility for child support. I can see the billboards now. DNA Testing: Call 1-800 he's the 1."

  "Ah, and how many men would pay to disprove it," Bea countered. "Call 1-800 she lies."

  Both were chuckling when they pulled up in front of Burke's house. Although the rain had stopped, standing water was still puddled on the sidewalk and dark clouds promised more bad weather. A pickup with Authentic Restorations written on the door sat at the curb, but the photographer's car was nowhere to be seen.

  "Someone's here. Let's see if it's Claire." Bea hopped out of the car. "Quick before it starts raining again. I don't have an umbrella." She ran up the steps.

  * * * *

  Claire opened the door expecting to see the HVAC contractor and found herself looking at Mike and Bea. He wore his customary navy blazer and khaki slacks, and Bea looked elegant in an off-white pants suit. Claire felt grubby in her work jeans and tee shirt, her hair in a ponytail. She'd been crawling around in the attic and she looked it. She brushed the dust from her hands.

  "Hi."

  "Hi." Mike waved toward his partner. "You remember Detective Washington."

  "Of course. Good to see you again, Bea."

  Bea looked past her, into the hallway. "Is Tony here, by any chance?"

  "No. Have you tried the dealership?" That's where he'd said he was going when he dropped her off.

  "We aren't looking for Burke." Mike was brusque. "We're here to gather some items from the studi
o." He glanced at his watch. "Our photographer is late."

  "Can we wait inside, out of the weather?" Bea said.

  "Sure, but I think your man just arrived." She pointed to a car that was pulling up to the curb. "If you're going to the studio, you might want to walk through the house. The side yard is a sea of mud."

  "We'll take you up on that," Bea said.

  Claire watched Mike, Bea and their photographer follow the now well-worn path to the studio. When they disappeared inside, she returned to the attic and the problem of where to put the new ductwork. She was back in the dining room making notes on the HVAC system plan when Mike and Bea returned. She put her pencil down. "Are you finished with the studio?"

  "For today," Mike said, "but we don't want you or any of your employees in there yet. The photographer will be another few minutes. He'll put the tape back when he's finished."

  "We don't want to go inside. We want to tear it down. And it's been sitting there with your yellow tape all over it for a week now. The delay is starting to cost money." Only the extra expense of keeping a large dumpster on site, but it was more than the money. She was tired of Jim Burke's tomb squatting like a bad omen in the back yard.

  "We're doing our best not to inconvenience you," Mike said.

  "Inconvenience me?" It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. "Refusing to let me demo the studio isn't an inconvenience; it's a roadblock. What more do you want with that building?"

  "Claire, you know we can't discuss an investigation in progress."

  She pointed to a plastic bag in his hands. "Does Tony know that you're taking whatever's in there? It's his property."

  "It's also a crime scene."

  "The photographer should be finished by now." Bea interrupted. "I think he could use a hand carrying all his equipment."

  Mike grabbed the excuse and went outside to help.

  Claire thanked Bea for heading off an argument. "I'm sure Mike thanks you, too."

  "Just doing my job."

  "I didn't get a chance to copy the photos yet. I'm sorry. But I did talk to Tony and he's fine with it. I'll get them to you tomorrow or the next day."

  "No problem. I've already got someone on the names. So far, Judy Boaz is the only one he's been able to find. From what I hear, she's a real piece of work. At first, she refused to say anything unless we guaranteed her a spot in a witness protection program." Bea made quote marks in the air. "Judy Boaz watches too much television."

  Claire shrugged. Tony had laughed about scaring the poor woman with talk of dark conspiracies. She hadn't found it funny, and she was sure Bea wouldn't be amused. "We found her mysterious land deal," she said. "Unfortunately, it looks legitimate. The highway in question runs beside the farm Geneviève has owned for years. I'm sorry if I wasted your time."

  "You haven't. Part of police work is eliminating the false leads. Did you tell Tony what Kyle Winslow had to say?" When Claire nodded, Bea said, "I hope he appreciates you."

  Claire felt herself blushing, the curse of the redhead. She rearranged the blueprints she had spread on the dining room table, unable to meet Bea's inquiring gaze. She'd been wondering how Tony felt about her. He'd been preoccupied on the trip back to town and dropped her off without mentioning seeing her again. For the tenth time in the last hour, she wondered if she'd been a total idiot for thinking their lovemaking meant something to him. The list of women in his life wasn't a short one. What made her think she was special?

  "Is the delay on the studio really messing you up?" Bea said.

  "It's still at the inconvenience level, but if I can't take it down soon..." Claire raised her hands in an exasperated gesture, grateful for the change of subject.

  "I'll do what I can to speed things up."

  Mike returned, carrying a tripod and spotlights, followed by a heavily laden photographer. "We're through here. I'll be waiting in the car."

  "I'm right behind you," Bea said. "Bye Claire. Keep in touch."

  "Bye, and thank you." She let them find their own way out.

  CHAPTER 27

  Claire had finished cleaning up after dinner and was flipping through the channels, looking for something on TV that would take her mind off Tony, when the doorbell rang. Tony stood on the porch, looking scruffy.

  "Can I come in?"

  "Of course." He didn't smell of alcohol, so this wasn't a rerun. She looked past him. "Where's your car?"

  "Back at the apartment. I've been walking around in a bit of a fog. I'm not sure how I ended up here."

  "I'm glad you're here. I've been thinking about you." She steered him into the living room. "Is everything okay?"

  "No, but I'm sober." He sat on the sofa stretched his legs out, and leaned back, pillowing his head in his hands. He'd sat like that when she was tracking down people in the pictures. He'd been relaxed then; tonight felt very different.

  "Would you like iced tea or a Coke?"

  "I'd like a beer. I haven't given up drinking. I'm just not planning to get drunk."

  Claire returned with two beers, handed him one and sat next to him on the sofa. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "Big day today."

  "It was."

  "Lots of surprises. I never dreamed Geneviève had that much money. When Shylock told me about her trusts, I asked him if he was serious. What you found out about the land explained where the money came from. She must have had something really juicy on Devereux."

  "You're sure she was blackmailing him?"

  "Geneviève took every advantage she could find or create. She suckered me into paying for her rehab when she could have paid it herself."

  "Regardless, it was nice of you." Claire took his hand and held it against her cheek.

  "I still believe she killed my father. The last thing I ever said to her was that I'd see her hang for it, but I'm angry that someone killed her. I didn't realize that until today. Being up there, talking to Shylock about her estate..." He rubbed his forehead. "When I got back to the dealership, there was a message. The police are ready to release her body."

  "She was a difficult woman, but she was still your mother."

  "More than difficult, sweetheart. You, on the other hand, are a very nice person." He slid his arm around her and kissed her lightly. "Unlike Geneviève, you're beautiful on the inside as well as the outside."

  "You change moods faster than any other man I've known."

  "How many other men have you known?" The question came with a smile.

  "Just one," she admitted. She and Tom started dating in ninth grade, went to college together and married right after graduation. "But if there had been fifty other men, you'd still be the one I'm going to remember when I'm a hundred years old."

  "When we first met I wondered if you wore colored contacts. Few people have green eyes, and yours are stunning, but your mouth is irresistible. I want your mouth."

  Some unmeasurable time later, Claire lay beside Tony, her head on his chest. They were on her bed, but she didn't remember the trip from the living room. Making love with Tony created a rush so intense it altered her consciousness. She imagined that's how it would feel to fall off a cliff. "What was military school like?"

  "It was okay, better than home. The boxing coach took an interest in me. He helped me work through a lot of anger, punching the bag."

  "You don't look like a boxer." She ran her finger down his straight nose.

  "Me and Mohammed Ali, too pretty to take a punch. Remember, 'Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee?'"

  "Do you still box?"

  "I don't ever want to hit anyone again. I almost killed a man."

  "In a match?"

  "In a bar." He stared at the ceiling as if the past was being projected onto it. "I married right out of college. It didn't last two years—nobody's fault—we were too young. Neither of us had a clue."

  He'd mentioned a divorce the day she looked at his house. She hadn't thought much about it until yesterday. Lying in his arms, she'd wondered about the circumstance
s and hoped it was well in the past, that his ex-wife was remarried with a houseful of kids and living somewhere far away.

  "I caught her having a drink with an old boyfriend. We'd separated by then, but she was still my wife. I told him to get lost. He said I was out of line, poked me with his umbrella and told me to get lost. I pulled him out of the booth and hit him as hard as I could. One punch spun his head around. My second punch caught air because he was already down." He exhaled hard. "He was unconscious for two days, two days I spent praying for his recovery."

  "It would have been an accident."

  "It would have been manslaughter, and it wasn't my first bar fight. My lawyer convinced the cops it was self-defense. I'd been attacked by a weapon, a deadly umbrella."

  "If he hit you with an umbrella, he was using it as a weapon."

  "That punch was the deathblow for our marriage. Gilbert walked me through the whole mess. First he kept me out of jail, and second he made sure Callie didn't take me to the cleaners."

  "Paul Gilbert?"

  "You know him?"

  "He's helped me out, too. Why don't you ask Paul about the trusts?"

  "Tomorrow. Tell me what you were like when you were a little girl. Were you a Girl Scout? Did you sell cookies?"

  "Of course." She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "I'm honest, trustworthy, loyal and anything else you want me to be." She'd be happy to spend the rest of her life on these warm sheets.

  The next morning, Claire woke first. She lay quietly luxuriating in the sensation of Tony's body along the length of hers, her breath following the rhythm of his, her pulse and his heart beating together. She propped herself up on one elbow and studied his face. He opened his eyes.

  "Did you know morning is the best time to make love?"

  "Why morning?"

  "I like being able to see what I'm doing."

  "Tony." Her cheeks became warm.

  "A wanton woman who blushes." He pulled her onto him. "It doesn't get any better than that."

  After breakfast she drove him back to his apartment. "Are you anxious to move into your own house?"